The WristWatch is a mechanical marvel of the twenteenth Century, combining Newton’s 4th law of Objects in Motion, which states that “when anchored to a central place, arms will spin in a clockwise rotation”, and Harmine’s 2nd Law of Accessories, The Law of Choosing a Comfortable Arm. The WristWatch is not so much an invention as it is a solution to the age-old problem of “why do I gotta keep reaching into my pocket alls the time?” The most interesting thing about the WristWatch is how it tells you the time. But the MOST interesting thing is how it works on the inside: Gears stacked upon gears stacked upon gears, linked to more gears stacked upon gears stacked upon gears, each held up by painfully tiny metal rods. And you just make the gears different sizes in relation to their ratios of time throughout the day. Then spin away, you crazy diamond! Each gear is also correspondenced to an arm of time on the surface of the watch. After this has been accomplished, months of careful preparation time by dozens of specialists are dedicated to placing the display section at exactly the right angle so that 12 isn’t way over on the side. And then of course, the WristWatch is clasped, using any number of very slightly annoying means, to hold the WristWatch to the Wrist. And that’s really how it works…. IN TIME!

Matt here with my second review of obscure whisk(e)ys from around the world. At the behest of my fellow Maltese Falcons (hello chaps!) I returned to Kourosh’s Booze-aar for another obscure bottle of sweet Scottish bliss, and like manna from heaven, it fell to me at the low price of $56.19: BalDonach 12 year old.

BalDonach trail: A trail as old as time

BalDonach is one of the smallest and oldest distilleries in Scotland. Nestled in the scenic Campbelltown hills, BalDonach is Gaelic for “terrain that’s rough and hilly”. It is served by the Donachie river (think estuary-meets-curb-side-run-off) that provides some of the salty aspects of this dram, and only receives direct sunlight three days of the week (that’s all they can afford.) A couple of miles down the hill from the distillery, the Donachie runs into Loch Donach, which is renowned for its blind para-sailing club, “The Look-Outs”.

Loch Donach in all its Loch-ness

Anyhow, on to the review.

Nose: Have you ever taken a piece of chalk in your hand, and crushed it up into your fist, and then gone for a bike ride in the rain, stopped for a churro from 7-11, wiped the cinnamon onto your pants, and then fired off a firecracker? It’s kind of like that, but you’re drunk.

Taste: Kourosh (see previous review) gets another pat on the back for this one. Smoke is lightly present, as are toffee, coffee, salty-licorice, and caramelized green banana, like on your uncle’s breath at Christmas. The coffee flavour makes way for black tea as it sits for a while, much like your uncle does after Christmas dinner.

Can’t beat Beets!

Finish: If you could describe a flavour as Ernest Hemingway meets Natalie Imbruglia, that would be it. But you can’t, obviously, so I’d have to say it’s like someone whispered a secret about horses to you inside a cardboard factory over lunch, and the guy next to you is eating spaghetti and pickled beets.

I’ve heard the 18 year old expression focuses more on the nutmeg/nuts/eggs aspect, so I’ll probably try that one as a comparison, but overall I’m quite impressed, BalDonach. Quite impressed.

It’s the only place to go for saffron when you’re shopping for a ’97 Saturn.

Matt here with my first review of obscure whisk(e)ys from around the world. I thought I would start off with the newest addition to my collection, the Glengrechnie 16yo “Distiller’s Edition” single malt. I picked up a bottle from the Iranian grocer in the used car district near my house a couple of weeks ago. Apparently, the mild-mannered Kourosh (not his real name), spice-and-meat-merchant by day, runs an illegal liquor store out of his back door by night. Quelle surprise!!! He “imports” a lot of spirits from around the world (in bags of lentils and chickpeas) that we cannot otherwise get here in Alberta, because they are not approved by the AGLC for whatever reason. I was lucky enough to be tipped off to this hidden booze-aar by the local Scotch club I belong to (thanks again, fellow Maltese Falcons).

I decided to try the Glengrechnie 16 because it is not readily available in Canada (or the US for that matter) and because it comes from one of the smallest and oldest distilleries in all of Scotland. Glengrechnie is a Lowland Scotch by name only, as I discovered, and tasted nothing like the Auchentoshen drams I’ve been accustomed to in my childhood. The distillery (I had to literally look them up in the phone book to get this information) sits adjacent to the Grechnie river, which is so small you won’t find it on any maps. It comes from the Gaelic word for “rough, hilly terrain”. I won’t bore you with the full history that was recounted to me while I racked up a dreadful long distance bill, but suffice to say, there are more than a few bodies buried on the property, and the distillery has changed hands more than a few times. Many suggest some of the former owners still have an “influence” on the taste of the whisky. Perhaps this is why they are not licensed to sell on this continent.

Anyhow, on to the review.

Nose: On first pass, I was sure that my grandmother had come back from the dead, hadn’t showered for 12 days, and brought me a basket of moldy figs and congealed hamster blood. But in a good way. After a few minutes of opening up, some of the more lichen-y notes became apparent, blue and black lichen specifically. There is also a faint hint of door-to-door vacuum salesman aftershave, like if one stopped by your house around 3:30 in the afternoon on a muggy day. Apples and caramel (but certainly not a caramel apple) also present.

Could you imagine if your name was Glen and you lived in Scotland? You’d go nuts.

Taste: Oh. My. Kourosh (again, likely not his real name) you have a return customer on your hands. Ok. So it starts off medium smoke, but it’s not a real peaty smoke, it’s like when your friend pees on a campfire to put it out, but before that he had been drinking nothing but caramel milkshakes for 3 days. It’s hard to explain properly. Mandrake root, wasn’t expecting that…. frozen peach fuzz shavings… almost a metallic flavour, but more vibrant, like if you lick a tuning fork… some minor medicinal notes, but not herbal, more of an over-the-counter kind of thing going on… It’s long and fairly narrow, and oily, like my neighbor’s driveway. I’m guessing aged in sherry casks that were washed up on shore, having been discarded in the oceans around northern Spain.

Finish: I’m left with what I can best describe as a ghostly oral reminder of mid-1860’s Glasgow, that one of my dogs seems to find very interesting. The other doesn’t seem to care for it.

All in all, I’m very impressed with my first taste of obscure Scotch, and I will be visiting Kourosh again quite soon. I will have to make sure I don’t accidentally call him Kourosh, because again, it is not his real name. It is made up.

Have you ever played ordinary bingo? Yes? Well, that’s probably because you’ve never been to Kinsella, Alberta, home of the extraordinary.

What else are you going to do on a Tuesday in Kinsella?

While most septuagenarians in rural towns play standard bingo, the prairie vanguards of Kinsella play Satellite Bingo (see photo, right)! Here’s how it works: everyone goes over to Jim and Nancy’s on Tuesday. They’re the only ones in town who have satellite TV. Most people assume Jim and Nancy actually own a satellite in space. Those people are wrong.

Someone picks a numbered ball out of a cage, and if you can guess what channel corresponds to that number (eg. Fishing Network, Bowling Network, Home Quilting Network, etc…) then you get to watch that channel until the next ball comes up. Sure Jim and Nancy always win (they own the only TV guide in town too), but most people are just happy to be out of the house, and in front of the only 27″ TV in existence (as far as they know.)

"Watch your t's, bro, slow down"

Bingo isn’t the only thing they do differently in Kinsella. Local resident Hal Thompson decided he was going to make up his own unit to measure speed, called, predictably, “the Thompson”. It’s based on how fast he thinks he can run. 15 years ago, the forward-thinking town council adopted the Thompson as their official measure of speed, and put it on their signs. The typical speed limit is 32t. Of course, nobody really knows how fast 32t is, but it doesn’t matter, because nobody owns a car.

"Now boarding: nobody!"

Also pictured here is the failed Kinsella Airport. They had hoped the motto, “If you build it, they will come” would hold true for airports. It certainly didn’t. Now it is home to the annual North American Commercial Building Squatters Association Conference. The town collects zero dollars from it. Obviously.

People here are friendly and accommodating, especially if you’re not a minority.

FAMOUS PEOPLE FROM KINSELLA (other than Jim and Nancy):

-W.P. Kinsella, celebrated Canadian author (only in town during a brief 3-day kidnapping ordeal to celebrate the opening of the airport. They built it, and no one came, so they let him go back home to Edmonton.)

-Janeen Darvishire, famous for an appearance on the Russian reality show, “So You Think You Can Grow Cucumbers”

Nestled in the South-Eastern region of Alberta, rising above the landscape like a blade of quack grass rises slightly above a lawn of ordinary grass, is a gem of a town called Hughenden. Founded in 1743 by a trio of Franciscan monks, Hugh Chapeau, Ennis Mault, and, (as legend has it) the world’s only sentient Denver Omelette, Hughenden derived its name from their three first names combined, HughEnDen.

We're open. No, really, we're open!!!!

Current population -12 (everyone is out of town at the moment), the main industry of Hughenden is custom windows and doors made entirely from plywood. Unfortunately, when the first (and only) restaurant in town had completely made over their storefront with these unique plywood fixtures, business ground to a halt, with all visitors to the joint restaurant/confectionary assuming it was closed permanently. Can you say, “refund?”

"Well, if we sell all the books, we won't have to keep the library open!"

If you’re wondering where all the residents of Hughenden are, look no further than the next town down the highway. Each summer the whole town goes on a field trip to a better town so they have something to talk about for the rest of the year.

When earth-borne spaceship Voyager 1 was propelled out of our own atmosphere, and into the nothing, it carried a Golden Record of terrestrial musical recordings, in the hope of finding alien ears, or at least human ears from the future. The Golden Record was filled with what was considered timeless earth music, like the Brandenburg […]